


of all the things my eyes have seen (the best by far is you)

by willoftitanium



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Eyes, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), and when they look at martin they make lil hearts?, canon-typical eye imagery but make it cute, not much tbh but it's there, not technically monster!jon, this is directly inspired by that concept, you know when artists draw jon with extra eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27113014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willoftitanium/pseuds/willoftitanium
Summary: While staying in the safehouse, Martin realizes something about the eldritch-fear-powers bestowed on his boyfriend, and he really doesn't mind.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 30
Kudos: 341





	of all the things my eyes have seen (the best by far is you)

**Author's Note:**

> not only has TMA consumed my every waking hour, it's inspired me to publish my first fic in 8+ years (and my first on ao3). shoutout to Celosiaa for giving some amazing advice about the importance of being creative every day as a way to de-stress. my last year of school has been really stressful, but taking breaks between homework and studying to write, even when I don't feel like it? it's helped a ton. i still can't manage every day, but I've put this together bit-by-bit over the last month and some change and I'm really proud of it! the joy of creating is wonderful.  
> EDIT: also credits to Celosiaa for the hc that Jon is Jordanian! there's a very brief mention of it in this fic
> 
> Please leave kudos/a review if you feel so inclined <3

The first time it happens, Martin isn't nearly as scared as he could have been.  
  
He's on the porch, relentlessly beating the living room rug against the side of the house. After the initial exhaustion from their trek to Scotland had worn off, Jon and Martin realized the state of the place left much to be desired. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, sure. Frankly when Martin thought of a safehouse owned by Daisy he imagined little more than a shack in the middle of the woods, full of weapons and tools and god knows what else.  
  
Instead they had found themselves in a small cottage, if it could be called that, with electricity and running water and bare furniture. While there wasn't much in terms of decoration, a thin film of dust covered most every surface. Jon acknowledged that if they were planning to stay for a while they needed to clean up the place, and Martin wholeheartedly agreed. And so the afternoon unfolds with Jon in the living room sweeping while Martin beats the living daylights out of an old area rug. He imagines it with Elias’s face. It’s beautifully cathartic.

Like the sensation of stepping into a cold shower, Martin realizes with sudden clarity he’s being watched. He thinks back to the chill – the creeping horror that haunted him, all of them, in the halls of the Archives. He pictures Elias’s face grinning in his mind and _oh god_ -  
  
Martin turns to see an eye. That’s what it must be. It's the right shape, mostly, and the right size, kind of. With a large pupil and a bright green iris and a strange quality to its edges like light refracting through water. Martin stares. The eye stares back.

Martin takes a deep breath, and the initial jolt of terror fades. The eye blinks but doesn’t move. The lingering fear is quickly replaced with curiosity.  
  
The front door open suddenly, swinging on rusty and grinding hinges, and the eye is gone in an instant. Jon is there, broom in one hand and hair piled on top of his head in a haphazard bun. It takes Martin a moment to register the words he's saying.  
  
"- with the living room floor, you can bring the rug back in."  
  
"O-oh yeah, yeah right, I have it right here." Martin clears his throat in an attempt at normalcy.  
  
"Are you alright, Martin?"  
  
If Martin takes any longer to answer he knows he won't be able to talk his way out of it. "Yeah, heh, sorry. Just...started me a bit is all."  
  
And really that shouldn't mean much, but not after what they'd been through. Jon lets out a quiet "oh" and steps towards him, placing a hand on his arm.  
  
"Sorry, I'll be more careful with the door next time." And his eyes are so soft and his face is so open Martin is left staring for an entirely different reason.

* * *

The second time it happens Martin is holding what could be a murder weapon if he was so inclined, but he’s not. Not right now, anyway.  
  
He's bent in front of the small fireplace, poker in hand, putting in a perfectly mediocre attempt at getting a flame going. Jon is in the kitchen leaning over a pan on the stove. He's muttering to himself about spices, not that is matters to Martin because it already smells _delicious_. Martin almost didn't believe Jon when he'd insisted that he both enjoyed cooking _and_ was good at it.  
  
"Is that so unbelievable?" Jon had scoffed.  
  
"Well, to be fair, you _did_ stab yourself with a bread knife. Who knows what nonsense you could get up to in a kitchen?" They'd laughed over the bags of potatoes at the grocer’s in the village. It was so normal Martin almost couldn't bear it.  
  
As Martin turns one of the logs over with the fire poker, the sudden feeling of being watched returns. He glances up and there are two – no, three eyes gazing down on him. One is large, larger than a human eye Martin is sure, flanked by the two smaller ones. The light from the fire reflects off of their bright green irises. It gives them a lively quality despite their stillness. It doesn't hurt, but it's hard to look directly at them. Like spots the sun leaves behind in your vision, that vanish as soon as you try to perceive them.  
  
Martin doesn't move, at first. Then, slowly, he reaches a hand out. He gets within a few inches before they close and disappear. The larger of the three reappears, eye opening, much closer to Martin's face.  
  
"Hello there." Martin whispers. He's not sure what he's trying to accomplish. The eye shifts closer, and seems to crinkle around the edges, as though it's scrutinizing him. The gaze is deep and intense, and Martin can’t look away. He knows he should be scared, or at least, apprehensive? But he's fascinated more than anything. The gaze feels familiar in a way he can’t describe.  
  
Martin glances down in time to see the two smaller eyes lean in towards the fire. One of the logs pops from the heat, and the eyes widen before promptly disappearing. Martin looks up again, and the larger eye is gone as well. Martin laughs, despite himself.  
  
When Jon calls to tell him dinner is ready, he's not really sure how to bring it up. So he doesn't. They eat in the living room, sitting under a blanket in front of the fire. Jon is a warm weight presses against Martin's side, emphatically explaining the variety of spices used in Jordanian cuisine. He falls in love just a little bit more.

* * *

The third time it happens is also the first time Jon notices, and he is not happy.  
  
"God, I can't believe I didn't know-"  
  
"Jon-"  
  
"I mean, I know they appear when I read statements-"  
  
"It's ok-"  
  
"-can just show up out of nowhere? God-"  
  
"Jon, hey." Martin takes the chance to grab onto Jon's wrists, from where he was gripping his hair. Martin lowers Jon's hands.  
  
"It's ok. They just, surprised me is all."  
  
Jon glances down, not meeting Martin's gaze. "I can't, _See_ you when they show up. If - if that was something you were worried about.” Jon's eyebrows draw together. "Well, maybe I could? But, I wouldn't."  
  
Martin hums in affirmation. “I’ll just add them to the ‘Qualities of an Eldritch Boyfriend’ list.”  
  
Jon brings a hand to Martin's cheek, not quite as amused as Martin was hoping he would be. It's cold - Jon is always cold, which is perfect because Martin is always warm - and Martin presses his own hand against it.  
  
"I'll do my best to control it. I promise."  
  
Truth be told, Martin's thinking much more about Jon's normal eyes than his supernatural ones. They're a deep brown, sharp and intense, but soft around the edges. They shine in the late afternoon sun, and Martin thinks he could look into them forever.

_Familiar in a way he can’t describe._

Oh.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Martin to learn that the appearance of spooky disembodied eyes is inversely proportional to Jon’s available attention span. That is, the more Jon buries his face into the book he’s currently reading, the more friends try to join them.  
  
They’re both on the small sofa in the living room, fire flickering in the fireplace. It’s something between a couch and a loveseat that two strangers might find uncomfortable, but is the perfect size for the two of them. Martin looks up from his volume of poems to take a quick stretch and finds five eyes hovering over him. One is peering at the open page of Martin's book, but the others are focused intently on his face. Curious, he lists to one side, and can't hide the laugh that escapes him when they follow his movements. Two eyes move closer, blinking owlishly.  
  
Jon gives a questioning "hm?" from the other end of the couch. His socked feet are wedged under Martin’s thigh. He hasn't looked up from his own book.  
  
Martin pokes a finger at the eye closest to his book and watches it flinch back before disappearing and reappearing closer to the page, clearly intent on reading the words printed there.  
  
"I didn't know you were a fan of poetry, Jon."  
  
Jon huffs. "I'm definitely not."  
  
"Well, clearly someone is."  
  
Jon looks up from his book and immediately groans. He leans over to Martin's side and shoos the eyes away with a petulant wave. The eyes around Martin blink in and out of existence a few times before disappearing entirely. A couple reappear just above Jon's head, blinking rapidly and squinting in a way that screams disgruntled. He takes a deep breath, focusing. A few of the eyes blink slowly, but don’t entirely close.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t even-“

"It’s alright, honestly." Martin says. Jon already looks like he’s about to start spiraling and Martin wants nothing more than to stop it. Martin closes his book. “I don’t really mind them? They’re – heh, I mean, they’re kind of…”

Jon raises his eyebrows in question.

“…cute, actually.”  
  
Jon levels a stare at him.  
  
"Cute."  
  
"Well, kind of, yeah!" One of the eyes snaps open and comes close to Martin again. He holds out a hand to it, and the eye moves for it briefly before sliding closer to Martin's face. The eye squints but doesn't disappear, crinkling somewhat around the edges, and in that instant Martin is aware how much emotion is expressed through eyes alone. Three more eyes materialize to frame Martin's face, and he laughs.  
  
Martin glances at Jon, who's staring at him. After a second Jon glances towards his hands twisted in his lap.  
  
"You really don't think they're, you know...?"  
  
Martin can't contain his smile as he leans in closer. The eyes follow him. "Spooky?"  
  
Jon glares at him, clearly unamused. "I was going to say ‘horrifying, creepy, eldritch-horror-like,'" he cuts himself off with a sigh. "But...yes." His expression settles into something much more vulnerable. Martin can feel his unease, and he has a feeling that the next thing he says will be extremely important.  
  
Martin lets out a breath. "I mean, yeah, it was a bit of a shock at first. But honestly? They don't really bother me." He shrugs. "Maybe they should, I know they're part of your _spooky powers_.” He accents this with the wiggling of his fingers. “But I don't feel any of the fear when I see them." He reaches out to take Jon's hands in his own. The eyes watch him. "I just see you."  
  
Jon's eyes (his _actual_ eyes) widen slightly, searching Martin’s face for any sign of doubt. It’s been hard, since the Lonely, for Martin to maintain eye contact with people, but he does it for Jon. After a moment Jon laughs breathlessly and tilts him head forward. In a practiced motion, Martin leans forward and presses his forehead against Jon's, closing his eyes. The warmth of the contact is grounding in a way that Martin certain he will never get enough of. Jon squeezes Martin's hands where they are still joined with his own.  
  
"Spoken like a poet."  
  
"I do try."  
  
It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of the crackling fireplace filling the space around them. Then-  
  
"I love you."  
  
Martin's heart skips a beat. It's not the first time Jon has said it, but it might as well be for what it does to his chest.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Jon laughs again, louder.  
  
"Hm?" Martin opens his eyes.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Just... _I_ love you." Without moving his head, he points to one of the eyes beside them.

It's quiet for another moment. And then they're laughing.  
  
"Jonathan Sims, you are _insufferable_ and I can _not_ stand it." Martin wraps his arms around Jon's smaller frame and brings him close. Jon pretends to struggle for a few moments, still laughing, before settling against him. They fall asleep like that, curled up on the couch. By morning it’s not comfortable, but it is perfect.

* * *

Bonus:

"Oh, aren't you the _sweetest_ thing," Martin coos.

The Highland cow in question continues it's meal, seemingly indifferent to the hand carding its way through her fur. Martin is perched on his tiptoes, stretching his arm down over the fence to reach the top of the cow's head. Jon is leaning against the fence and had long ago switched his attention from the cattle to the man next to him. Martin laughs as the cow butts her head against his hand, and Jon is overcome with a rush of affection so strong it leaves him dizzy. How many times had Jon heard him laugh when they were in the Archives? Had any of them ever?

Four eyes appear suddenly, framing Martin's face. One appears to be scrutinizing the field of cattle, but the other three are focused intently on Martin's face. Martin turns to face Jon and smiles. He reaches out his unoccupied hand for Jon to take, which he does so without hesitation. The eyes blink a few times before disappearing, leaving them alone to enjoy the countryside.


End file.
